Everything was working as planned. So far. Which wasn’t very far, to be honest. In fact, to be really, truthfully, honest, there really wasn’t anything that could have gone wrong yet. But it could. It could go very wrong, very fast, once he stepped through those doors.
“Kendrik?”
He stood, taking a deep bow and flourishing his hat. “Yes, madam?”
“They’re ready for you, sir.”
Sir. She had called him sir. “Thank you, my dear.” He grinned and winked at the pretty girl. Well, pretty enough. She blushed and curtseyed as he walked past. Just keep grinning. People will either think you’re crazy, confident, or that you know something they don’t. Probably they won’t be able to decide which, and it’ll make them treat you like all three together. That little piece of advice had come from a toothless tramp in Vilmeir. Who would take grinning advice from a toothless tramp? Hurmf, that’s who.
The room was darkish. A few candles on the desks of the interviewers. Would they be able to see his grin? His perfectly disheveled hat?
“Ah, Kendrik, welcome. Please, have a seat.” The old woman was motioning to a simple chair that sat in the middle of the round room. Aside from her, there were two others sitting behind ornate wooden desks, covered with papers, scrolls, and all manner of curious baubles. They looked tired. He sat in the chair.
“Ahherm…” That was the older man in the middle, holding aloft a thick sheaf of papers which he appeared to be scrutinizing. “Well, well..” He raised a hand and snapped his fingers. Bright light flooded the room, seeming to come from everywhere. “Mmm...better…”
“Kendrik,” came the third voice, a middle-aged man on the left with an impressive black goatee. “In reviewing your application, I must admit that we find ourselves a bit on the skeptical side.” Straight to the point. He liked this guy.
Grinning, he gave the man a wink, “You’d be crazy not to be skeptical. I wouldn’t believe any of it myself if I hadn’t been there. Let me tell you, it’s an honor to be sitting here. I’ve long wished to be able to work for The Society.”
“Ahhermmm...no doubt…” the old grump was still perusing the first page.
“May I ask,” the old woman started, then stopped as he flashed his grin in her direction, “What I mean to say is, could you explain to us the nature of your relationship with the Duke of Hilmberg?”
“Hibbert? That old scamp.” Grinning and shaking his head, he started in as if to tell a long story, “I remember when I first met him. Such a strong lad, though naive. But he had the spark, you know? I hired him to carry the bags when we set out to the Fort Morid excavation. You may remember that-”
“Kendrik, we’ve read your application. It’s practically an encyclopedia of adventures and heroic deeds. What Lady Danesh wants to know is how can we be expected to believe that the Duke of Hilmberg was once your companion?”
“Ah, well, I don’t expect you to believe anything,” he came back, not missing a beat, or breaking his grin. “You can ask the man himself. When we split our earnings from the ancient relics we acquired at For Morid, we all became exceptionally wealthy. Hibbert was never made for the adventuring life, so when the old Duke of Hilmberg died without an heir, I suppose he took the opportunity to stake a claim. Not my business what he does, but politics is certainly not something I’d care to waste my money on.”
The three glared at him. He grinned back. Word in the backstreets of Hilmberg was that the new duke, Lord Hibbert, appeared out of nowhere when the old duke died. He was extremely secretive. If the beggars of Hilmberg couldn’t even find out where the man had come from, it was unlikely The Society could. He knew full well that they’d probably already discovered this. It was his word, with no competing narrative.
“And, ahemmm… What, aherrmrmm… Happened to your share?”
“That is another exciting tale, though not one with monsters, traps, and maidens, I’m afraid. You see,” The man and woman on either side of him gave him a glare, “Well, to make a long story short, I must admit that I have a bit of a gambling problem. Nothing quite like the thrill of rolling the dice.” This put all three of them at ease. There was nothing powerful people liked more in their pawns than an exploitable weakness.
Stolen story; please report.
“You are rather quick to point out the exceptional skills of your fellows, but I can’t find a trace of a hint of any of your own abilities throughout these pages. Is this not an application for your entrance into The Society?”
He had been very careful not to make any claims of skill or ability that he could not easily demonstrate should it be asked. Word on the streets of Caliphas was that The Society was currently looking not for muscle, but leadership. Those pages were drenched with leadership, and he knew that they knew it.
“Yes, it’s true, I myself have very little to offer The Society. Except one thing.” All three leaned just a little closer. “Luck.”
The man on the left snorted. “It’s hardly lucky to lose all of your wealth to dice.”
He waited, grin unwavering. “Indeed,” the old woman agreed, “What is so lucky about a man that has gone on so many glamorous adventures with nothing to show?”
Still grinning, he nodded slightly. “Hrmm, yes, yes, hrrmrrmm...Umm, would you care to, eh, ummmerrmmm…. Elaborate?”
“I would,” he said, nodding graciously to the old man seated behind the center desk. “It’s true, my fortunes of fortune are less than admirable, but my luck in life is undeniable. Through all of these dangers and challenges, I emerged, not unscathed, but undoubtedly alive. Every time I have picked a crew, each one had some unique experience that was paramount to our survival. If I had erred, even once, I and many others would be long since deceased.”
He rolled up his left sleeve. “This scar is from a basilisk’s fang. It barely scratched me, and I was able to suck out the poison quickly. Half an inch closer and I’d be a statue.” Pointing to another scar, “This, a bolt from a crossbow, wielded by a Dwagar.” He chuckled. “It ruined the jeweled bangle I was wearing, but barely pierced my skin. I’ve a hundred more like it I could show you, each one with a story. Some mundane, some fantastic, but each could have been deadly if not for my luck.”
They were listening. “I may not be the most dexterous dueler, strapping strongarm, or fleetest footpad, but I am a survivor. When terror surrounds, crushing hopes and breading despair, my soul demands not just to live, but to thrive. The only thing more exciting than gambling with dice and gold is gambling with life, and when it comes to that particular kind of luck, I have never lost. It is that quality which led each of these exploits to a happy ending. That is what I have to offer The Society.”
The man on the left sighed. “Yeah, he’ll do.”
“Agreed.”
“Hrm… yes, I think so.”
“Kendrik, welcome to The Society.” The words made him want to smile, but he was already grinning. “We bestow upon you the title of Initiate. To advance to full membership within The Society, you must first complete a contract of The Committee's choosing. We have one ready, which the three of us have agreed to hand over to you should we find you acceptable.” The middle-aged man held out a scroll. He rose from the chair and accepted it.
“Be sure to follow the instructions to the letter. You will meet with the benefactor in one week from today with your crew. Upon his acceptance, the benefactor will provide you with the customary advancement of fifty gold per member to spend on expeditionary equipment as you deem necessary.”
He bowed, “Thank you for your confidence in me. You won’t regret it.”
“Hrmmm ermmm yeess….”
“I certainly hope not, Initiate.”
It was clear from their stares that the meeting was over. He turned and left without delay. These kinds of people appreciated action. It was, of course, all a show.
The plan was going smoothly. That was because the plan was simple. After spending the better part of thirty years travelling from town to town, country to country, begging for coppers and eating table scraps from slop heaps, he’d finally decided he’d had enough. So Hurmf saved his money until he could buy some clothes that, while used and somewhat ratty, looked exactly like what a member of The Society fresh from an adventure would wear. The hat was the selling point, of course. It had undoubtedly been expensive at one point. Now it was barely worth the handful of coppers he’d paid for it. The only person who would wear such a piece of garbage was someone who had attached sentimental value to it. Someone like an adventurer.
The only risky part of the plan was the lies, of which there weren’t many, and they would be difficult, if not impossible, to validate. These were balanced out by the truths. Hurmf did indeed have quirky luck, and while he didn’t have a hundred scars, he did have nearly two dozen. They were not from the likes of basilisks or Dwagar, but each one was a memory of a brush with certain death.
Hurmf had never been on an adventure. He had never met the Duke of Hilmberg, or even heard his name. He had come up with Hibbert because no one knew the Duke’s name. He was a mystery, and powerful enough to remain so. A fact that Hurmf had taken advantage of. Confidence had convinced them, or at least given their doubts pause. Whether or not they had actually believed his stories didn’t matter. They had given him the contract.
And now, best of all, he was no longer Hurmf. He was Kendrik. Kendrik unrolled the scroll and read the details. Interesting. This was going to be easier than he thought.